


Friend A

by crossbelladonna



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Fluff, M/M, Shigatsu wa kimi no uso AU, happy family fluff, kyoutani has triggering thoughts heads up, nobody dies ok im not heartless no mo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-06
Updated: 2016-11-06
Packaged: 2018-08-29 10:41:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8486242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crossbelladonna/pseuds/crossbelladonna
Summary: There’s a short pause and Yahaba sets down his violin, making everyone look at him. He steps forward, right in front of Kyoutani again and deliberately grabs his hand, gentle and encouraging and Kyoutani feels himself freeze.Yahaba’s smile is blinding, eyes sparkling with excitement.“You come too.”In the spring of his sixteenth year, the world fills with music again.





	

**Author's Note:**

> this took such an embarrassingly long time to finish im not even gonna say only that i got ONE WIP DOWN 500 MORE TO GO! WOO! writing, man.
> 
> beta'd by my trusty sin pal hina @asterbells although the latter part at the end isnt beta'd but y'know
> 
> also, nobody dies 8) big win

He can’t hear it.

Not even when his fingers move lithely over the black and white keys, at some point he feels like he’s suddenly underwater—drowning, murky, every other sense unclear and he hears that telltale voice in his head that keeps reminding him even now.

_Play as the score tells you! Play as the composer intended! Study the sheet over and over!_

His fingers are calloused though they are well taken care of, even if he’s stopped doing this after nearly two years, not even so much as looking at the grand piano he has in the music room at home, though he still yearns for it somewhat.

But then there are moments he’d close his eyes as he opens that door, breathing in the same scent given off by the old music sheets in the shelves brimming of them, the ones his mother collected and then remembering—his hands on the keys, a strictly followed melody as though a direct imitation from the composer, body poised with tension as he concentrates on his fingers moving along muscle memory.

And then halfway, the rigid voice appears right behind him, the disappearance of sound even if his fingers are still moving. Drowning. Everything is black and white and he’s torn away from the present.

If anything, it’s the thing that terrifies him the most.

 

“Kyoutani, duck!”

Kyoutani doesn’t need telling twice, not even looking up from the music sheet in front of him as he leans forward and feels something small whizz past his back.

Something shatters quite audibly and Kyoutani doesn’t turn his head to know it’s the window.

“Agh, I missed!” It’s Watari, Kyoutani knows.

Kyoutani frowns at the music staff he’s poring over, pencil hovering over a barely filled in quarter note. Still, he doesn’t look up, not even taking his earphones out of his ears.

“Why are you throwing your baseball around inside school premises?” Kyoutani wants to know, slightly annoyed he was interrupted.

Watari makes broad gestures as he explains avidly, motioning to the now shattered window towards Kyoutani’s left.

“Suya was right out there! You know Suya from class? He’s skipping cleaning duties again doing whatever! Seriously it’s been who knows how long and he still keeps doing it I ought to tell someone—”

Kyoutani puts his earphones and pencil down, finally facing Watari who’s still by the doorway, and scowling. Kyoutani’s scowling now too so it’s not going to get any better for them both so soon.

“Let it go, class rep, you didn’t have to break the window,” Kyoutani says, miffed. “He’s not going to magically get better anyway. Besides, you broke the window again, that’s twice now.”

Watari looks sheepish at least.

“Yeah, about that, sorry…”

Kyoutani waves a hand away, pushing back his bench to stand and survey the shattered glass. At least only a portion of the window was broken. Watari zooms around looking for a broom and a dustpan and while he’s preoccupied, Kyoutani crouches down and reaches for a piece of glass, intending to take it away.

“ _No!_ ” Kyoutani hears a yell and then Watari is pushing him away to side so that Kyoutani falls on his butt.

“Don’t touch that!” Watari exclaims, armed with a broom and dustpan.

“What’s gotten into you?!” Kyoutani demands.

Watari shakes his head seriously, clicking his tongue in disapproval.

“Touching broken glass is hazardous. What if you had cut your finger? Who’s going to have to handle your raging?”

Kyoutani rolls his eyes and Watari mimics him mockingly.

“What, it’s true! It’ll have to be me! Do you really want Yachi to have to comfort you? You’ll just scare her off.”

“It’s not like I could. She’s busy with art club anyway.”

“Right! Get it?” Watari points towards the piano and Kyoutani’s gaze follows him.

The piano with its uncovered keys, the pushed back bench, the music sheets both empty and half-written littered around the main lid. The grand piano here in school is excellent and in conceivably better condition than the one he has at home.

“Just when you were starting to play again too!” Watari continues his adamant speech.

“I wasn’t playing it,” Kyoutani immediately retorts.

Watari scoffs. “What you were only staring at it waiting for some magical epiphany to arrive?”

“I was testing for sound.”

Watari looks so disbelieving it should be affronting.

“I don’t play anymore.” Kyoutani tells him with some sort of finality. He stretches up and gathers the music sheets again. “I’m only transcribing songs by ear that’s all.”

Watari scoffs again because he has no faith on him whatsoever. He starts sweeping and Kyoutani belatedly remembers they’d have to make an apology letter for that one again.

“You’ll see, I’m telling you.” Watari mutters, sounding sure.

 

His fingers glide over the keys, knowing where to go, where to move even as he closes his eyes. He listens to the song playing softly through his earphones, humming softly as he recalls the notes he transcribed from this song.

Anyone who’d walk in on him would probably stare at him funny. Who is this delinquent boy looking seriously out of place in front of the piano? Kyoutani would scoff. Appearances are garbage when you have talent.

But then his fingers hit the keys once more and his heart drops to his feet.

_Play it again! You will not go to bed until you’ve committed the score to memory! That’s the only way of playing!_

His hands continue to move like a machine, doing their job and yet to Kyoutani’s ears it’s turned into a dull, throbbing noise. Each lull of the note is the sound of dragging yourself across the ocean floor, a deep echo ricocheting around his head until he stops, breathing hard.

Kyoutani tilts forward until his forehead hits the piano keys, sweat dripping across the back of his neck, hands clutching either side of his head.

He can’t hear it.

It’s always been like this. For the past two years he’s let his prodigy status slip away from him, rendering him back to the bleached-haired boy whose expressions frighten children but appearances mean nothing. Not when he can’t hear it, all his worth going down the drain.

_Ah…what the hell._

Kyoutani thinks he hears his name being called or this might just be one of his delusions.

“Kyoutanii—”

The door slams open, as per usual and Kyoutani turns his head slightly, setting his hands down.

Watari is waving at him brightly, skidding inside the room and he crouches next to Kyoutani, smiling wide.

“Are you free this Saturday?” Watari asks.

Kyoutani finally sits up, letting out a breath.

“Why?”

“Just want to know.”

“No.”

“No, you’re not free or no, you don’t want to say?”

“Just no. Go away, Watari.” He closes the cover over the piano keys.

Watari doesn’t budge.

“Come on, it’ll be fun. You have to get out and see the sun once in a while. Besides you have to be there.”

Kyoutani raises an eyebrow.

“Why do I have to be there?”

Watari straightens up, smiling. “Because there’s this guy in the other class who wants me to introduce him to Yachi.”

“I still don’t see why I should be there.”

“Come on Kyoutani, Yachi’s your sister isn’t she? Besides I don’t want to be the third wheel. With you there it’ll be a nice, comfortable square.” Watari explains. “The guy’s a musician too apparently. Classical. See, you can chat all about it like best of buds it’s a win-win.”

Kyoutani looks at him, deadpan.

“First of all, Hitoka’s my stepsister. She has the freedom to do what she wants and if the guy gets mad she turned him down then that’s when you can send me after him.” He gathers his music sheets as he speaks. “Second of all, just because the guy knows music doesn’t mean we’ll get along.”

Watari pats him and Kyoutani grunts.

“Don’t be so grumpy this isn’t how you make friends.”

Kyoutani frowns as a response and Watari points at his scrunched forehead disapprovingly.

“That too! Seriously how many children have you terrorized this week?”

“Fuck off.”

Watari laughs and leans back.

“See you Saturday!”

 

+

 

“I’m home!” Kyoutani calls out as he steps inside his house. The lights are on and he can hear shuffling in the kitchen. There’s a pause followed by footsteps and Kyoutani waits by the door, removing his shoes.

“Welcome home, Kentarou!”

Kyoutani blinks at his stepmother and nods politely in greeting and she smiles warmly as a reply.

His father married Yachi Madoka a year following his mother’s death. Incidentally, Madoka has a daughter herself—Hitoka—though she’s a year younger than Kyoutani. Kyoutani doesn’t mind it at all; he’s in a better, happy family now despite looking like he isn’t (a side effect, he thinks, of the blurry older days).

Madoka is the complete opposite of his mother, Kyoutani learned over time. She encourages passion, but not manipulating. She supports his talents, but doesn’t force him into things. She doesn’t hit him at all, something he feared, even though Kyoutani’s sure she’s capable of doing it.

And yet.

“Ah, you didn’t catch up with Hitoka again?” Madoka wants to know. She’s still wearing her business suit it turns out though she has an apron over it.

Kyoutani shakes his head.

“She has art club again.”

Madoka hums thoughtfully. “Huh, I did hear about that complicated sculpture she’s making. Well, you made it in time, I’m almost done with dinner. Your dad’s not home yet, however.”

Kyoutani nods again. “That’s okay. Thanks, Mom.”

Madoka smiles at him fondly before she goes back to the kitchen. Kyoutani excuses himself too, saying he has to change out of his uniform.

It’s almost an instinct to him now.

His footsteps slow down as he eventually reaches the door to the music room. He stops, hand reaching for the doorknob and he closes his eyes when he pushes it open.

_The smell of old paper, the swirling dust motes, the musical staffs taking him in an embrace, the notes dancing around his head._

“I’m home, Mom,” he says.

 

+

 

They’re not here.

Kyoutani makes a face, having just looked his watch for the fifth time and he shoves his hands in his pockets. He’s been waiting here at the park fountain for the past half an hour and there hasn’t been a peep of Watari except for his text this morning.

 

_Watari Shinji_

**[06:58 am]**

see you later! @ the park fountain ok??? 8:15!!!!

 

8:15. Yeah right. The hands on his watch have been inching close to 9.

Yachi isn’t here yet either. She had insisted for Kyoutani to go ahead this morning, busy with an enormous cardboard sculpture she had brought home, in her room earlier. Next to it, she looked even tinier.

“I’ll catch up to you later, Ken-chan, I promise this’ll be really, _really_ quick!” she appealed, putting her hands together.

Kyoutani stared. “You do know you’re the reason why I’m going right.”

“Please, _please!_ ”

Fate made people easily relenting to sisters somehow.

Kyoutani huffs. He watches people come and go now, some of them doing their morning jog, the others with their children. It feels like it’s going to be a good day. The breeze is good and not humid, the sun warm and comfortable.

Interrupting his introspective thoughts however, is a distinct, though soft, sound and it captures Kyoutani’s attention instantly.

“Harmonica,” Kyoutani muses.

He knows how it goes—

_Ring-a-round the rosie / A pocket full of posies_

Kyoutani finds himself walking towards the direction of the tune. It’s a bouncy tune, the notes dancing with the rhyme as though the musician is smiling. He can picture this image as clear as the weather today.

The tune gets closer as he goes through the shortcut towards the playground, the path under the shade of the trees. He closes his eyes, focusing on the sound of the instrument and stops when he feels his foot prod against something.

He blinks down and sees a brown square, a wallet.

Kyoutani raises an eyebrow and bends down to pick it up, dusting it off with one hand and opening it. There’s a picture inside of a smiling, light brown-haired boy and Kyoutani tilts his head.

The wind blows, taking with it the leaves that rise up, swirling. The bouncy tune continues, carried by the wind to him and Kyoutani looks up when he hears happy, bubbly laughter.

He’s not surprised to see children playing in the playground. He is quite caught when he sees them in a circle, dancing around a boy playing the harmonica.

The boy twirls around with infectious enthusiasm and glances up, looking away from his audience, still smiling as he plays.

Their eyes meet.

_It’s the boy_ , Kyoutani thinks, his hold on the wallet he found, tightening reflexively. Perhaps the boy dropped it by accident. That’s fine; Kyoutani can wait.

The boy’s gaze drifts away now, back to his little audience who’re still giggling at him in delight. He’s still playing the score on repeat and Kyoutani finds himself transfixed. The wind tousles the boy’s hair, more so when he dances along with the circle.

Kyoutani hasn’t heard of an instrument this happy for so long.

The boy twirls, finishing the remnants of the tune and he waves a hand in a dramatic flourish once he’s through. He bows to his audience and the children laugh and applaud.

When the boy straightens, the first thing Kyoutani sees, with surprise, are tears.

“Oh!” the boy says, wiping at his eyes as the tears continue to flow to his chin. “I must have blown on it too hard.”

“Nii-chan, again!” One of the children says and the boy laughs.

“Again? You kids sure love your singing games.”

“It sounds really nice, Nii-chan!”

“Nii-chan, once more!”

Another answer of melodious laughter.

“I will, I will, in a bit! We should pick another song, shouldn’t we? What would be nice? I know this other song—” the boy cuts off abruptly and Kyoutani notices with a start that he’s staring right at him with an almost suspicious expression.

Even more astonishing is when the boy suddenly walks out of the circle and saunters towards him with now a slightly sly, if not accusing expression. The boy stops just in front of him, unnervingly taller, gray eyes alight with definitely mischief.

He motions to Kyoutani’s hand with his chin.

“That’s my wallet,” he says.

Kyoutani holds it up. “I’m aware.”

The boy tilts his head wonderingly. In Kyoutani’s periphery he can see the children looking at their exchange curiously though they resume playing by themselves when the boy doesn’t look back to them.

Just then, the boy gasps dramatically, covering his obviously smiling mouth with his hand in what seems to be a sudden epiphany.

“You’re a _thief_ ,” he says, feigning reproach.

Kyoutani inhales sharply, suddenly angry. He waves the wallet in front of the boy’s face, indignant.

“I am not! I found it right here, you dropped it!” He shows him, pointing a finger to the ground. “I was going to give it to you after you finished—”

The boy’s eyes widen, almost shining as though he’s found something else to rile him up about.

“So you’re a thief _and_ a pervert, oh my…my virtue—” he bursts out laughing.

Kyoutani, however, is not so amused, glaring at him exasperatedly with blood pounding at his temples. He shoves the wallet onto the boy’s chest which ceases his laughter.

“Oh,” the boy muses, grinning.

“I didn’t steal your goddamn wallet,” Kyoutani informs him, “and I didn’t do anything you’ve accused me so far either.”

The boy twirls the wallet in his hand, thoughtful.

“How much money was inside?” He asks and Kyoutani raises an eyebrow, feeling an overwhelming need to kick him somehow though he goes against it.

Kyoutani runs a hand through his hair, exhausted.

“I wouldn’t know alright, because I wasn’t trying to _steal your wallet_ —”

The boy chuckles, “It’s empty,” and Kyoutani is dumbfounded into silence, “it’s just something I carry around like a trick so no one will steal my actual wallet.”

Kyoutani thinks there isn’t anything sketchier than a guy carrying around a decoy wallet but he shuts his mouth, all ready to leave.

 “You know what, there. There’s your wallet or whatever it’s supposed to be and I’ll be off.”

“Wait—”

“Ha! There you are!” Another voice, suspiciously sounding like Watari, calls out to them and Kyoutani whips his head around so fast, for once grateful to hear his friend’s exclamation.

Hitoka is with him, waving at him brightly when their eyes meet and Kyoutani’s about to chide them for being late until the obnoxious boy next to him exclaims, “Yacchan!” and Kyoutani’s gaze whips back to him like a slap in disbelief.

Watari and Yachi catches up to them and the boy moves away from Kyoutani towards Yachi whom he immediately starts a very animated conversation with, again Kyoutani feels incredulous.

“Th-They…” Kyoutani stammers, horrified. “H-He…”

“Oh, you’ve met!” Watari says, delighted. “You beat Yachi to the punch huh?”

“Very nice to meet you!” the boy says to Yachi, all sparkling. “I’m Yahaba Shigeru! Eh? He’s your stepbrother? How funny coincidences are!”

Yachi smiles happily. “He is, Yahaba-kun!” She eyes Kyoutani apparently about to introduce him.

_Oh no_ immediately passes through Kyoutani’s mind and Yachi didn’t need to be the one doing the introductions to her apparent admirer because he zooms right back to him, smile almost menacing as he shakes Kyoutani’s hand enthusiastically.

“My name is Yahaba Shigeru! Very nice to meet you…” Yahaba leans in considerably closer so that Watari and Yachi can’t hear and Kyoutani fears for his life. “…Mr. _I didn’t steal your fake wallet._ ”

Kyoutani is too stunned to say anything else but, “Um,” so Watari easily saves him with an oblivious, “This is Kyoutani Kentarou, Yachi’s brother! Not that it matters at the moment but right now he’s…” Watari points at Kyoutani smugly. “Friend A!”

Kyoutani almost chokes and they look at him, awed and he wants to aim a good kick towards Watari who seems nonplussed.

Watari waves a hand nonchalantly.

“That means he’s in a supporting role right now,” he explains.

“Ah, like Villager B,” Yachi quips and Watari nods.

Yahaba is smiling pleasantly, for once genuine. “Am I Main Character A? What does this make you?”

Watari looks thoughtful. “I’m the required third wheel for every story.”

Yachi laughs and Kyoutani rolls his eyes.

“Oh, hey!” Yahaba says, suddenly. He pats his pockets and comes up with a phone and he checks the time, looking sheepish. “I’m gonna be up soon so I’m going to have to cut this short. I need to be over there now.”

Yachi tilts her head. “To where?”

They watch as Yahaba waves at them as he goes back to the children he was entertaining earlier to get something.

“Ah, there!” Watari says, pointing way over Kyoutani’s back and he turns to look and sees a building so familiar down to his bones and he immediately frowns in protest.

“No,” Kyoutani says gravely, stepping back.

“The music hall?” Yachi muses.

“I’ll be performing there today,” Yahaba appears again. “I’m a violinist!” His smile is making his eyes crinkle. He has a violin case slung over his shoulder, all stark black and an ostentatious _Yahaba Shigeru_ embroidered in gold at the side.

Yahaba catches Kyoutani looking at it and he brings his violin case forward for them to look.

“Very pretentious, isn’t it?” Yahaba laughs.

_It’s beautiful_ , but Kyoutani doesn’t say it.

“A violinist!” Yachi says excitedly. “That’s amazing, Yahaba-kun!”

“Don’t you have to be somewhere?” Watari says.

Yahaba starts and he rubs the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Oh, yeah! I have a competition to attend at ten.”

Yachi gasps. “ _Ten?_ ” she peals. “But it’s ten minutes to ten!”

They’re in a sudden flurry of motion brought on by Yachi’s panic and Kyoutani starts to sweat.

“It’s fine!” Yahaba tells them, waving a hand flippantly. “I’m the sixth anyway.”

“You’re cutting it too close!”

“It’s fine, it’s fine.”

Kyoutani clears his throat, trying to make himself non-distinguishable though it’s hardly possible and he shoves his hands in his pockets as he steps away from them hastily.

“Right, that’s great,” he tells them hurriedly.

_Play the score again!_ A cane to his hand and Kyoutani clenches his fists.

No. _Go away._

“I’ll just go ahead then, have fun.” Kyoutani says, palms sweating, heart in his ears.

“But don’t you love music, Ken-chan?” Yachi notes and Kyoutani clears his throat again.

“No, it’s fine,” he tells her.

“Let’s go, Kyoutani.” Watari motions his head towards Yachi and Yahaba, smile sincere.

Kyoutani lets out a breath, relaxing.

“I’m gonna pass, thanks.”

There’s a short pause and then Yahaba sets down his violin, making everyone look at him. He steps forward, right in front of Kyoutani again and deliberately grabs his hand, gentle and encouraging and Kyoutani feels himself freeze.

Yahaba’s smile is blinding, eyes sparkling with excitement.

“You come too.”

In the spring of his sixteenth year, the world fills with music again.

 

“Hurry, hurry!”

He hears Yahaba’s laughter and Yachi’s worried insistence. Watari is chortling in amusement and Kyoutani walks briskly to catch up to them.

They enter the music hall and they see sunlight beaming don on the gathered competitors in the lounge from the enormous glass windows. Kyoutani’s heart pounds when he sees them, from excitement or nostalgia he can’t put it.

He sees the contestants accompanied by their parents and guardians, others with their tutors and they’re talking in hushed voices, of nerves and expectation and even the latest gossip in their parts perhaps.

“Do you think Takizawa will make it first again?”

“He’s got a new accompanist.”

“Did you see the newbie who topped last year?”

“Ahh…I’m so nervous I might forget the chords!”

Watari slows down to a walk beside Kyoutani and he shivers dramatically.

“Really professional air around here huh?” he says. “Kind of like everyone’s a celebrity.”

Kyoutani scoffs. “Tension is the same everywhere.”

“Is it nostalgic for you, Ken-chan?” Yachi turns around, looking at her expectantly and Kyoutani doesn’t know what to tell her that’d be enough of an answer so he gives her a smile instead.

“Well, then, I go here!” Yahaba stops abruptly, swinging around his violin case. He points to another corridor where Kyoutani assumes leads to the backstage.

“I still have to get ready.” Yahaba chuckles.

“Good luck, Yahaba-kun!” Yachi says earnestly and Watari gives him a thumbs-up.

Yahaba nods, smiling wide as he surveys them until his eyes land on Kyoutani who looks back at him with ease.

Yahaba doesn’t look nervous or jittery, Kyoutani deems. In fact, he looks more than ready, like a person who plays with passion as though every day is their last. Yahaba’s eyes dare him.

“Watch me,” Yahaba says.

_I will,_ Kyoutani thinks but he doesn’t say.

 

Yahaba hurries off and they start for the theatre.

“Over here!” Yachi tells them and Watari walks up to her with the same enthusiasm. Kyoutani however, is rooted where he’s standing when he sees the grand piano in the hall.

He remembers this piano like a friend, always the first thing he sees when he steps inside this music hall. Someone else is playing it at the moment, perhaps as practice, but the familiar tune momentarily sets a cold chill down Kyoutani’s spine.

_Liebesleid._

“Love’s Sorrow,” Kyoutani breathes. And then at that moment he sees someone else in the corner of his eye—a wheelchair, an I.V. stand, a cane used to beat.

_This is your workplace!_

The tune is off and he’s underwater, fingers moving through the black and white with a deep sound like footsteps on wet sand.

The score, the notes, the staff pulling him down under—

“Kyoutani?” he feels a gentle tap on his shoulder and Kyoutani dives back to earth.

He blinks dazedly at Watari. “Yeah?”

Watari smiles. “We gotta see Yahaba right?”

_That’s right._ That’s right.

“Yeah,” Kyoutani mumbles, clearing his throat.

“Something wrong?” Yachi calls, waving her hands.

“Nothing!” Kyoutani says. “Let’s go.”

 

The dry air, the smell of dust.

 

_Miyagi Music Competition Committee Sponsor_

_Violin - High School Division_

 

“Huh, it’s smaller than I remembered,” Watari notes.

Yachi chuckles. “Well it’s not a sports arena,”

“I don’t think I’ve felt this atmosphere in a while since you were on the stage, Kyoutani.” Watari laughs and Kyoutani rolls his eyes.

“There are open seats over there!” Yachi tells them and they move over five rows forward, Kyoutani sitting next to her followed by Watari.

And then the whispers—

“Isn’t that Kyoutani?”

“Wait, the piano prodigy?”

“What’s he doing here?”

Kyoutani _tsk_ s and lets it pass through his other ear.

“What happened to his hair?”

“Isn’t he the youngest kid to win the Inter-High competition?”

“I heard he stopped two years ago—”

Watari pokes him on the side and Kyoutani jumps in a start. Yachi giggles into her hand.

“Watari, quit it,” Kyoutani hisses when they sit and Watari grins.

“They still recognize the ex-celebrity, huh,” Watari wiggles his eyebrows.

“The classical world is quite small after all,” Yachi says.

Of course she’d know, Kyoutani sighs inwardly. Her mother designs musical instruments after all.

Kyoutani scowls at Watari instead. “You knew he was going to perform, weren’t you?”

Watari smiles innocently. “You wouldn’t have come if I told you.”

“Does it make you feel bad, Ken-chan? We can always leave if you insist,” Yachi says so graciously that Kyoutani almost feels guilty.

Watari shows her a thumbs-up.

“It’s _fine_ , he’ll live!” and Kyoutani elbows him on the ribs though he’s right. It doesn’t bother him as much now that he’s here.

“Don’t worry about it, Hitoka.” He assures her, hastily patting her hand.

The lights dim, followed by the announcement that the competition is about to start and Kyoutani focuses on the grand piano on stage. Watari hands him and Yachi the program and Kyoutani grips on it like a lifeline.

On the stage, the first competitor walks forward, accompanied by their accompanist. The room is hushed with anticipation as they take their bow, gathers themselves together and begins to play.

_Beethoven’s Violin Sonata No. 9. The Kreutzer._ Kyoutani relaxes.

They play it well, sound distinct and faithful to the score albeit there are a few hitches that didn’t do much damage. Beside Kyoutani, Watari leans forward, eyes closed as he takes the sound in.

“It’s been a while since I’ve heard a live performance,” Yachi hums quietly.

Kyoutani tilts his head, watches each drag of the bow, the notes reaching out to his skin and his fingers ache for the black and white tiles.

“Me too,” he says.

 

“It’s the same song over and over again,” Watari complains to himself when the fifth competitor comes around and Kyoutani looks at him dully.

“It’s the set piece,” he deadpans.

Watari shrugs. “Should have more pizzazz you know? Seriously, you folks.”

“This is a _formal competition_.”

“They usually just play solo, don’t they?” Yachi points out. “This time around they have an accompanist.”

“The sponsors are already pretty quirky choosing Beethoven from the start.” Kyoutani says.

Watari looks at them back and forth, trying to catch up.

“Well,” he says. “I have no idea what you mean so whatever.”

There’s a sudden jump at the tone and Kyoutani raises his eyebrows, and watches the violinist with a strange sympathetic worry.

_They’re off._ He’s lagging behind his accompanist and they’re now both struggling to match up again, even Yachi makes a sound that she’s noticed.

_Catch up._ Kyoutani thinks fiercely, fingers twitching at the tune. _Come on, catch up._

The accompanist is having a hard time, sounding as though they want to pause every now and then but keeps going. Kyoutani’s fingers move with its own tuneless rhythm, knowing the sonata down to how the composer made it.

They don’t make it until it’s over. In the end, a mistake is still a mistake, still a point taken.

“Ah! Yahaba-kun is next!” Yachi says. This makes Watari perk up, sitting straight with eyes shining and Yachi does the same.

Kyoutani stays still, heart suddenly pounding in anticipation and his vision zeroes in on the left side of the stage until he sees Yahaba stride out with relaxed confidence.

The theatre is hushed in waiting and Watari and Yachi coo their admirations. Kyoutani watches Yahaba walk to the center poised, holding his bow and violin at his sides.

Yahaba has changed into an immaculate white suit, his bow tie gray like his eyes and his light brown hair is pushed back, making his eyes look clearer, grayer, stare even sharper. Behind him, his accompanist stands by the piano and Yahaba scans the audience before he starts, not quite seeing Kyoutani, Yachi and Watari but smiling nevertheless.

He lets out a breath, catching himself and nods to his accompanist who acknowledges him as he gets into position.

The first stroke of his bow is gentle and flowing, the tune entirely there but calmer and controlled and the hush in the audience continues, leaning into the harmonious tone until there’s a staccato and suddenly, with a spring of the bow the tune dances and all eyes remain on Yahaba’s lithe movements.

The tune this time, is no longer slow—there’s a burst of light to him and his entire imagery changes. Beethoven’s sonata is even sharper, tone faster.

Kyoutani grips on his seat, the program crumpling in his fist. In his mind’s eye, sunflowers grow wild on the stage with Yahaba’s every drag full of emotion, gray eyes in deep concentration but still betraying a small smile as he dives in and proceeds to break every rule they’ve set up for him.

Smashing right onto them.

“This…this is still Kreutzer, isn’t it?” Watari almost sounds unsure.

It is; Kyoutani’s sure. But its wild dynamics, tempo all over the place makes it seem entirely different and it reminds Kyoutani of the park—Yahaba’s surprising nature, if not a little sketchy but with sudden amusing outbursts, moods swinging as it suits him. The composer is no longer behind this now.

Yahaba’s accompanist doesn’t seem to be struggling too hard however they’re still trying to keep up with Yahaba’s sudden antics though through and through they manage to walk with him despite the critical effort.

But even with all that, with Yahaba’s last pull of a note, the sonata ends.

He’s breathing heavily, bow still raised and he smiles wide, expression showing no regrets.

The audience seems to breathe in unison and then the theatre is filled with sonorous applause. There are murmurs of admiration and unbelievably—in a formal competition!—there are even a few cheers.

Watari is beside himself as he claps.

“That was—that was amazing! I’ve never been more awake than I was ten minutes ago!”

“Watari—”

“But it’s true! That was _something_ else…”

Yachi is bouncing in her seat, smacking Kyoutani’s arm in enthusiasm.

“Wasn’t he great? Look at the audience, they love him! He’s fantastic! Do you think he’ll win?”

“Honestly,” Kyoutani says, voice unsteady. He watches Yahaba bow and leave, eyes never leaving him, “he probably would in any other competition or recital but here, in a formal one like this one…” Kyoutani shakes his head. “I doubt he’d even place.”

Yachi looks astounded to say the least.

“What?! But he’s great! You saw!”

Kyoutani nods. “I did. But he barely followed how the score is to be played—too spontaneous, dynamics on haywire, you get judged like that.”

Yachi looks pretty sad by this and Kyoutani wonders if he should’ve sugarcoated it instead.

But Yachi says, “It’s such a waste for such a talent not to be recognized properly.”

“It was beautiful!” Watari inserts.

“It was.” Kyoutani finally says and for once, he itches to play.

 

Yahaba doesn’t place in the top 10 at all, as they expected though it still carried a melancholic feeling.

Kyoutani, Watari and Yachi watch a crowd forming around the posted results and they stay a bit further away to sulk in their own private circle.

Yahaba’s absence from the list garnered quite the surprise but without questions among fellow musicians.

“I really thought they were going to let number six be, he was fantastic wasn’t he?”

“He was! He had such a unique style!”

“Eh,” Yachi gripes.

“ _Just_ the audience award?” Watari grumbles. “What an outrage!”

Kyoutani doesn’t make a comment in case they displace their anger on him but he nods along to their whims. He’s already pretty surprised Yahaba even got something out of his surprising performance; he sure looked like he didn’t care if he won or not as long as he enjoyed it.

“There you are!” They hear Yahaba call and the turn, seeing him wave at them brightly. He has his violin case strung on his back and he’s no longer wearing his suit, now back to his casual clothes that give nothing away of how much talent he has in him.

Yachi and Watari return the enthusiastic waving and Yahaba starts for them but is sidetracked when two little girls walk up to him with a bouquet of flowers, gushing their praises leaving Yahaba quite bashful.

“Oh, that’s really sweet,” Yachi admires.

“It’s only natural,” Watari agrees.

Yahaba waves for their attention again, once he’s finished though now with a bouquet in his hand.

“Yacchan, did you see me?” He asks loudly.

Yachi nods eagerly. “I did! You were great!”

“Right? Right? I was _fantastic_ wasn’t I?”

Kyoutani watches their exchange with a sort of fascination, a newly found admiration suddenly leaning towards the unpredictable violinist he just met this morning.

His eyes find themselves locked on Yahaba: the way he bounces slightly on his heels as he talks with enthusiasm, making his violin case bob along with him; his slender fingers holding out his bouquet for Yachi like it’s a trophy he’s giving to her. His smile is lovely, eyes warm when there’s no underlying threat to rip someone’s head off.

_I’m only Friend A. I belong to this perspective._

But Yahaba’s eyes find him like they did before.

He momentarily pauses his conversation with Yachi, excusing himself and he rushes up to Kyoutani, his gray eyes shining.

“Did you watch me?” _Did you see what I did?_ He wants to know.

As if Kyoutani could look anywhere else.

“I did see you, yeah.” He tells him.

Yahaba’s smile is bright, hopeful.

“What did you think?”

Kyoutani swallows, surprised by his eagerness and he forgets how to string words altogether.

“It was…” he starts and he doesn’t know how to continue. His performance had been different; unlike anything he’s seen before. His experience with music had been strict, always going by the code, every flawless dictation of the unseen composer.

With Yahaba, he breaks everything he’s known. His spontaneity, the sudden lively bursts reminiscent of his personality. He’s talented and Kyoutani doesn’t know any other adjective that can convey it enough.

“You did well,” and it’s an understatement. Yahaba looks like he’s waiting for more so Kyoutani motions to the little girls way behind them, the ones who offered Yahaba their admiration.

“Those girls,” Kyoutani says “they went their way to buy you flowers. You left a mark on them. That already means something.”

Yahaba seems contented by this, looking smug and he laughs a little.

“You’re right. I was all over the place though.”

_You were_ , Kyoutani smirks.

Watari sidles next to Kyoutani, huffing and waving a hand flippantly.

“It was an organized mess,” he claims and it makes Yahaba laugh.

“Totally, right?” He beams, whirling around to Yachi again and they both catch up on their conversation once more. Kyoutani stares.

“That’s Friend A, for you.” Watari says by his side.

Friend A.

He’ll settle with that.

 

+

 

He can’t get the music out of his head no matter how he tries.

He doesn’t register the cold, hard floor underneath him as he’s lying down, nor the distant sounds of the general school background noise. Here, with his eyes closed, fingers fluttering as they tap on imaginary piano tiles, he hears the Kreutzer in his head.

But that’s not all. Behind his eyelids he sees the shine of a violin, the graceful movements of a bow, demanding everyone’s attention. He remembers sunflowers, bright lights. His gray eyes and the carefree smile.

Kyoutani wants to shake it off. It’s creepy. Who’s even that happy, playing?

He looked beautiful like that.

“ _Tsk!_ ” Kyoutani clicks his tongue grumpily, annoyed and he digs the heels of his palms against his eyes. “How frustrating is that! _Agh_ ,” he shouts to the room, bothered.

Incidentally, he hears a familiar yelp and Kyoutani’s eyes snap open.

“Geez, you scared me!” Watari says, clearly startled with a hand over his chest.

Kyoutani no longer questions why Watari is here again although he sits up, grumbling.

“What are you doing there, lying on your music sheets?” Watari asks quizzically, pointing at the floor and tilting his head.

Kyoutani freezes and immediately feels sheepish as he looks at the scattered music sheets on the floor, some empty, some half-filled, some named. The nearest one to him gets him to stare at it. _The Kreutzer._ He was only thinking.

“Go away, Watari.” Kyoutani says.

Watari smiles that knowing smile of his, though he has no other response.

“Yachi was looking for you earlier,” he says instead.

Kyoutani rubs the back of his neck.

“Yeah, okay. Tell her I’ll be late so she can go home ahead.”

“Yeah, no. She was going to visit a girl from another school today, did you know that?”

Kyoutani actually considers it. He’s been hearing Yachi gushing about a _beautiful girl she knows from another school_ over dinner these past few weeks so he guesses that’d be that someone.

“Probably that crush of hers,” Kyoutani guesses honestly.

This news makes Watari whistle.

“Hah! That means Yahaba’s out of the running then?”

Kyoutani is picking the music sheets around him when he casually goes, “Probably,” and then he hears the proceeding suspicious silence.

Kyoutani looks up and Watari is grinning at him again.

“What, _dumbass_ ,” Kyoutani says.

Watari sounds almost conspirational.

“Do you _like_ him?”

Kyoutani almost chokes as he swallows and inhales at the same time and he glares at Watari so hard it could shatter glass.

Meanwhile, Watari doubles over in laughter for whatever reason he’s laughing about as Kyoutani continues to glare.

“JUST KIDDING!” Watari exclaims to save himself. “Just kidding!! I’m going now!”

Kyoutani can still hear his laughter from the hallway as he leaves.

_What kind of bullshit is that,_ Kyoutani scowls as he continues gathering the scattered music sheets around him. In his right hand, he clutches the Kreutzer.

A flash of a smile, immaculate suit, gray eyes and sunflowers.

Friend A.

“Bullshit,” Kyoutani repeats, incredulous and he shakes his head.

 

Yahaba swears he can hear the Kreutzer on the piano.

He actually strains to hear it, just making sure and he tilts his head to where he thinks the tune is coming from.

He’s sitting on one of the benches outside the baseball field, beside his upperclassman who’s getting ready for archery club and Yahaba’s really trying to listen to him talk right now but his attention is now divided.

“Iwa-chan was really hard on me that one time, Yahaba-chan! I was only trying to joke around because he said—” his upperclassman is saying as he’s putting bows in his quiver.

“Is that right, Oikawa-san,” Yahaba answers gamely. _That’s definitely the Kreutzer somewhere._

“—yeah! Iwa-chan told me ‘ _you can’t shoot straight!’_ So I said ‘ _I’m not even straight!’_ and he kicked me!”

Yahaba chuckles. “He dislikes joking around, you know.”

Oikawa shrugs, pouting. He hitches his quiver on his back, continuing his story.

“That’s why he’s got premature wrinkles he’s uptight, that’s why you shouldn’t be like that Yahaba-chan—oh,” Oikawa pauses inclining his head thoughtfully. “Someone’s playing the piano, can you hear?”

Yahaba perks up. So he wasn’t imagining it all this time after all. Somehow he already knows where it’s coming from.

Yahaba tries to discreetly hide his grin.

“Yeah, I think I hear it,” he gestures to where he thinks the tune is coming from, “do you mind if I...?”

Oikawa raises an eyebrow and shrugs.

“Oh sure, go ahead. I was just headed for the club anyway.”

Yahaba puts his hands together as he gets up, beaming.

“I’ll catch up to you next time, Oikawa-san!” He promises excitedly as he runs.

 

It feels right underneath his fingers this time; Kyoutani plays the Kreutzer, feeling calm. He can still hear it, can get himself in sync with the tune and suddenly feels hopeful as he passes over two, three staffs. Maybe if he keeps playing he’ll finish it and he’ll still hear and it feels right somehow—

He feels someone watching him from that open space in the windows where the glass hasn’t been replaced and Kyoutani immediately stops playing, turning an already malevolent glare towards the window and almost gives himself a heart attack when he sees Yahaba standing on the other side looking perfectly at ease.

Yahaba tilts his head when Kyoutani stops playing and leans inside, curious.

“Why’d you stop?” He asks.

“What are you doing here?” Kyoutani deadpans.

Yahaba raises an eyebrow. “I go to school here.”

Oh. Right, yeah. Okay. Kyoutani scoffs at him.

Yahaba chuckles and taps his fingers on the window ledge as he peers in.

“So, why’d you stop?” He asks again.

“Please leave.”

“Aw, come on.”

“Just go. Look—I’m about to leave anyway.”

Yahaba smiles beatifically.

“Is that right?”

Kyoutani shows him. He exaggeratedly gets up and closes the piano, arranging his music sheets and bodily pushes the bench back. Yahaba looks fairly amused when he turns to leave.

“See you!” He coos, fluttering his fingers.

 

_What a pretentious asshole,_ Kyoutani finds himself thinking as he walks to the shoe lockers, one hand holding his music sheets and the other shoved inside his pocket. _Him and that shit-eating smile of his._

He remembers the smile, the playful gray eyes, the sharp, hard-headed music. Why is he thinking this?

Friend A isn’t supposed to see Main Character A in a sparkly bright light. That’s entirely different. Kyoutani scoffs to himself as he’s walking off.

He haphazardly shoves the music sheets in the locker, quickly changing his shoes so he could leave as fast as possible and speedily makes his way out of the building.

He stops walking.

Yahaba is waiting right outside, hands on his back and whistling to himself.

_Yokai_ , Kyoutani grumbles in his mind.

Yahaba sees him immediately, proceeding to act as though they didn’t see each other literally 20 minutes ago.

“Ah! Friend A!”

Kyoutani stares. “Why are you still here?”

Yahaba’s face turns blank innocently.

“Oh, I’m just waiting for Yacchan. You’d know where she is right, because she’s your sister?”

Kyoutani makes a face and then remembers what Watari told him earlier.

Ah, Yachi’s going to that crush of hers. Poor guy didn’t even know she’s got a crush on someone else. Then again, Kyoutani is just Friend A.

“No, I don’t. Goodbye.” Kyoutani says curtly, passing Yahaba by though he somehow easily keeps up with him.

“Hey, hey wait what do you mean?” Yahaba wants to know.

“She’s probably busy. Bye now.”

Yahaba is still walking alongside him looking thoughtful and Kyoutani can’t help but look at him unobtrusively. Yahaba’s hair looks orange under the light of the setting sun, parted neatly as always. His eyelashes are long, curving and feathery, lips pursed in thought.

“Busy, huh,” Yahaba muses.

“Yeah. Now, please leave.”

“She might hate me if I’d bother her, right?” Yahaba continues.

“Yahab—”

“Aha!” Yahaba claps his hands once in exclamation, getting an idea. He suddenly stops walking and startled, Kyoutani stops too.

“I know what to do!” Yahaba continues and then imperiously points at Kyoutani, beaming. “I’m appointing you as her substitute!”

Kyoutani’s eyes widen in astonishment and horror. _What?_

“Huh?”

Another thing he finds is that Yahaba’s eyes crinkle when he smiles.

 

+

 

“Ohh, it looks really good! Ahh, where do you think I should start eating?? It’s so overwhelming!”

Kyoutani glares at Yahaba from across the table. He’s crooning at the plate of waffles he ordered, staring at it in awe and seemingly hesitant to touch it while Kyoutani starts stabbing his.

_First I’m an extra…now I’m a substitute huh._

Kyoutani clicks his tongue, suddenly irritated.

“Stop taking pictures of your food,” he tells Yahaba who’s maneuvering his phone around to get a good angle.

Yahaba looks up at him and sticks his tongue out.

“It’s for Instagram, Friend A. You’ve got no taste whatsoever.”

“ _Tsk._ ”

Yahaba takes a few more pictures before he finally picks up his fork and Kyoutani looks away when he starts _ooh_ ing again. Obnoxious. Kyoutani isn’t sure if this is really the boy who mesmerized an entire audience with his violin.

“It tastes as fantastic as it looks!” Yahaba sounds thrilled.

“Is baking your hobby or something?” Kyoutani sighs.

Yahaba raises his eyebrows. He’s still biting his fork, making his words sound a little lisped.

“Eh? Oh, no, no. It’s a dream though; it’s nice. Hey, hey you have to try this chocolate chip it’s _good_.” Yahaba emphasizes this by putting it on Kyoutani’s plate before moving on.

Well. That’s that. Kyoutani finds himself amused enough to purse his lips against a smile.

Suddenly they hear a familiar tune played on the piano, a jumpy albeit practiced score of _Twinkle, Twinkle_.

Kyoutani becomes distracted at once, turning his gaze and sees that the white upright piano in the corner is currently occupied by two children—a girl who is playing and a boy looking on in awe.

“So that piano _does_ play,” Yahaba muses, voice soft and he’s smiling as the tune continues. “I thought it was only a prop.”

Kyoutani thought so too. After all, the piano has five flower vases on top of it, the flower petals haphazardly spilling onto the keys.

“It’s a smiling piano,” Yahaba says, happy.

Kyoutani on the other hand, shakes his head in disagreement.

“No, it’s not,” he says, stabbing a berry with his fork, “you’re not supposed to put water near a piano but they’ve got vases all over it. The moisture can affect the sound.”

Yahaba is suddenly silent and when Kyoutani looks at him, he’s surprised to see him frowning and pouting right at him.

It makes Kyoutani scowl too.

“What?”

Yahaba huffs and pushes back his seat, standing. Kyoutani watches in bewilderment as Yahaba walks over to the children, expression set with determination.

 “You’ve gotten really good at it!” The boy exclaims in admiration as the girl keeps playing, looking pleased.

“I learned it in piano class!” She tells him.

“Mozart huh?” Yahaba pipes up cheerfully and they look at him, grinning. “You already play it well,” he tells her.

“She’s been practicing for ages!” The boy says with much emotion. “Mama has been complaining.”

“Hey!”

Yahaba laughs. “It is pretty hard to learn, isn’t it? Do you know how to play the rest of it?”

The girl shakes her head. “I haven’t practiced that far yet.”

“She can read music now, isn’t she cool?” The boy whoops.

Yahaba beams. “Absolutely.” His gaze moves up to the beautiful flowers on the piano. There is a vase of forget-me-nots right in front of him and his thoughts land back to Kyoutani whom he glances at briefly. Kyoutani catches the stare and he raises an eyebrow in inquiry.

Yahaba snubs him.

Kyoutani rolls his eyes and watches Yahaba entertaining the children again, his waffles seemingly forgotten and in return, Kyoutani can hear their lively conversation. Yahaba gets along pretty well with kids, he finds.

“Can you play the piano, nii-chan?” The girl asks him.

Yahaba smiles. “I’m not exceptional with the piano but…” his smile turns unbelievably evil as he points at Kyoutani, “that nii-chan over there is a _master_ with the piano. Why don’t we ask him for help?”

Kyoutani chokes on his waffle the moment the words leave Yahaba’s mouth and he starts coughing just as the children squeal in excitement at this news and run up to him.

“Really, nii-chan?” The girl wants to know, eyes wide with expectation. “Will you teach me?”

“Play for us!” The boy adds.

“I-I, well you see—” Kyoutani stumbles with his words. “I don’t play the piano anymore.”

“Eh? Why not?”

“Sorry—”

“He’s great!” Yahaba says with intent. “He keeps saying he isn’t but he is!”

Kyoutani’s palms start to sweat. “I—”

Yahaba leans towards him so fast Kyoutani doesn’t quite see it happen until Yahaba is smiling threateningly an inch away from his face.

“ _Don’t embarrass me in front of the kids._ ”

His eyes are shining, glare venomous and biting. _Oh hell—_ and then in a split second, it all disappears into a sweet, happy smile that makes his eyes crinkle.

“Let’s go _Kyoutani-kun_ ~!”

Terrifying, that’s what he is.

 

Kyoutani tries not to look so begrudging when he steps towards the piano although he feels as though he’s scamming these children when they look up at him expectantly. He’s not even good with children at all to begin with, either way.

“He’s a piano prodigy, you know,” Yahaba keeps laying it on.

Kyoutani’s face feels aflame.

“Stop it,” he hisses at him as he stands next to the girl who’s now back on her seat and ready to play with a big smile.

“Alright, here we go!” Yahaba declares, extending his hands out like a conductor. Kyoutani uses his right hand to maneuver the keys, the girl using her left and when Yahaba brings down his hands, they both start.

“ _Twinkle, twinkle/ little star,_ ” Yahaba sings with the notes, little stars following his voice.

Kyoutani matches with the girl’s tempo and they hit off with a good start, the two children looking delighted.

“ _Up above the world so high/ like a diamond in the sky,_ ” Yahaba’s eyes crinkle. “ _Twinkle, twinkle/ little star/ how I wonder what you are,_ ”

And then his muscle memory kicks in, Kyoutani’s hand continues to the more complex half of the score. The girl stops, amazed and Kyoutani doesn’t notice it. His foot is on the pedal and he gets lost in the notes, barely seeing the admiring gazes, Yahaba’s smug smile, the sudden hush in the café.

Kyoutani is at ease like this. In his mind’s eye, stars escape whenever his fingers presses on the keys.

_It’ll go well,_ he clings to that hope.

Then his finger slips and he hears a deep thrum instead of the usual tink of the key. The stars disappear and the melody fades in and out, dancing away from his periphery and is replaced by another commanding voice.

_You must follow it. Whatever will you do if you don’t follow the score?_

_Ah._ Kyoutani’s foot freezes on the pedal and his hands remain hovering over the keys as he looks on, horrified.

Slowly, he steps back from the piano, feeling the curious stares of the children following him and when he looks up, he meets Yahaba’s eyes.

Yahaba doesn’t look any different—full of wonder but not intrusive, sad perhaps but not patronizing.

“Why’d you stop, nii-chan?” The little girl asks Kyoutani, eyes wide with innocence.

“Sorry,” Kyoutani says.

 

“Ahh! Those waffles were so good, weren’t they?”

Kyoutani grunts his assent as he follows Yahaba out of the café. He keeps walking forward, not at all looking where he’s going and almost bumps into Yahaba’s back when he suddenly stands still.

“What the hell are you—” Kyoutani begins in irritation.

Yahaba ignores him, suddenly beaming and pointing towards the park across the street.

“Look! Look!” He tugs at Kyoutani’s sleeve. “There’s a puppy!”

Begrudgingly, since dogs have done him no wrong all his life, Kyoutani follows Yahaba’s gaze and true enough, he sees a shiba inu puppy all alone and poking at a ball that’s been left in the sandbar.

“Ah,” Kyoutani says, “do you think it got lost?”

“Maybe he was accidentally left behind,” Yahaba wonders then he grins at Kyoutani, motioning his head to the park. “Come on let’s see him.”

_Whether you like it or not_ , he seems to add but Kyoutani wants to see the dog anyway so he follows Yahaba who skips ahead of him and eyes him quizzically when he starts cooing for the dog to come closer to him.

After a moment the dog trots to sniff at Yahaba’s fingers which make him laugh delightedly.

“I wish I had a dog,” Yahaba says.

“You like dogs huh?” Kyoutani comments idly.

Yahaba glances back at him, winking. “I do! But I’ve never had one since my mom is allergic.”

Kyoutani stares at the red shiba inu puppy that’s now nudging against Yahaba’s fingers playfully. He relaxes and after a quick decision, he crouches down next to Yahaba though he keeps staring at the puppy.

“I’ve had a dog before,” Kyoutani says and Yahaba looks at him in interest, “when I was younger that is.”

Yahaba’s gaze doesn’t leave him even as he finishes talking.

“You’re really not going to play the piano anymore?”

Kyoutani lets out a breath. “You know about that, huh.”

Yahaba smiles crookedly. “How could I not? You’ve won more competitions than anybody else our age. I’d be living under a rock if I didn’t know.”

Kyoutani snorts.

Yahaba eggs on either way. “You were such an excellent pianist. Your playing style was true and always had no room for errors always goes by the chords you were given even at such a young age.”

“Right. Okay so you really do know me after all.”

Yahaba’s eyes crinkle as he smiles.

“It’s common knowledge though. Our world isn’t that big. After all,” Yahaba’s aura is infectious, sparkling and eager that when Kyoutani meets his eyes, he can’t look away, “we look up to you.”

Strangely comforting. But…

“Why did you quit playing?” Yahaba’s voice gets softer, dropping to a mumble.

Why. Kyoutani could say boundless reasons why.

_Why? Why would you quit?_ Echoes a voice of disappointment, topping Kyoutani’s list.

Kyoutani doesn’t have anything to lose anymore.

“I can’t hear the sound of the piano.”

There’s an unmistakable flash of surprise in Yahaba’s face along with his momentary silence.

Kyoutani scoffs at himself. “It’s weird isn’t it?”

“Eh? Well, it’s a bit odd,” Yahaba says, tilting his head back as he thinks. “You were playing just fine back there weren’t you?”

“It’s all good at first,” Kyoutani sighs and he stands up. The puppy watches him as he does so and he starts sniffing around the hem of Kyoutani’s slacks. “I can hear it from the start. And then…”

_The deep sound, the feeling of being underwater with plugged ears and muted fingers._

“And then it disappears from me. The more I focus, the more it fades.” Kyoutani finishes.

Yahaba nods slowly. “Does it make you feel helpless?”

Kyoutani bites the inside of his cheek as he thinks about his reply.

“I wouldn’t say helpless,” he says. “It doesn’t affect me in daily activities. I just can’t hear myself, is all.”

“But music is your life too isn’t it?”

A pause. “You don’t really get to hold the reigns of your life sometimes.”

Yahaba stands too, looking disapproving.

“It’s probably a punishment,” Kyoutani muses. “I can hear my fingers on the keys and the sound of the keys sinking and yet.”

Yahaba straight up frowns and all too suddenly, he aims a kick at Kyoutani’s shin.

“STOP!”

“What on earth are you—!”

Yahaba’s voice turns quiet.

“You can’t say it like that,” he says, “there will always be things out of your control and it’s not your fault. “

And sterner, louder, “What I’m saying is! I know you want to play! You still do—I’ve seen how you look like when you make music!”

Kyoutani flinches but he doesn’t respond.

“So if you want to play,” Yahaba stabs a finger to his direction. “ _Play_. Play even if you can’t hear it. Play even if you’ve lost your arms and legs. That’s how people like us move. That’s how we keep going. You’re going to get stuck if you don’t do something.”

_People like us_. Kyoutani lets out a breath slowly, a breathy laugh of disbelief but he’s far more relaxed now than moments ago.

“I ended up getting a telling off from you huh,”

Yahaba smiles complacently.

“I didn’t say things ever come easy.”

Kyoutani scoffs. “Of course it doesn’t.”

There’s a momentary silence as a gust of wind passes by, and with it comes the hail of leaves and pink petals, swirling as they fall and rise.

_Mom,_ Kyoutani finds himself thinking, _things don’t come easy._

_And I’m trying._

+

 

“KYOUTANI KENTAROU!”

Kyoutani just about chokes on his lunch when, after the classroom door slides open, a familiar trilling voice comes shouting out for him.

He’s a bit horrified—and annoyed—to see Yahaba loitering by the door, waving brightly at him and if that isn’t enough, his classmates are turning to stare.

Kyoutani begins to stand so he can walk up to Yahaba but the idiot speaks up before he can even move away from his desk.

“I’ve made up my mind!” Yahaba says, still just as loud and people are grinning at them both now.

“Made your— _what?_ ” Kyoutani’s jaw drops.

Yahaba points at him and Koutani feels a sense of foreboding.

“I’m appointing you as my accompanist.”

This time, Kyoutani chokes on air and a number of people start hooting. Needless to say, he has never shot out that fast from his chair and speedily runs to the door, grabbing Yahaba by the arm and he pulls him to the hallway.

Kyoutani swallows multiple times before facing Yahaba’s smiling face.

“ _Are you out of your mind?_ ”

Yahaba tilts his head. “No? I won the Audience Award that one time right? So I have to do a second round. Sooo I’m choosing you as my accompanist.”

“BUT WHAT ABOUT—”

“My other accompanist quit on me, can you believe? Says I’m too spontaneous for their taste. Well.”

Kyoutani’s palms break into cold sweat.

“Didn’t you hear what I told you the other day?” He tells him, exasperated. “I can’t hear what I play midway a score!”

Yahaba tilts his head. “So you did.”

“Do you have a _death wish?_ ”

Yahaba laughs. “As much as I’d like.”

Kyoutani rubs his temples.

“Yahaba, I can’t be your accompanist.”

“I knew you wouldn’t agree to it,” Yahaba says and if Kyoutani listens closely, he actually sounds desperate. “I knew you wouldn’t but I’m still asking you.”

Kyoutani exhales. “Look, it’s not because I’m afraid—”

“I know,” Yahaba smiles. “You’re a great musician as far as I know and I trust you. So…think about it alright?” His smile is too bright and for a moment Kyoutani is dumbfounded.

Yahaba bows. “Okay, please think about it! The piece I chose is Saint-Saëns Introduction and Rondo Capriccioso, just a heads up!”

“Yaha—”

Yahaba proceeds to flee before Kyoutani can finish and Kyoutani’s left standing there in the hallway, face masked with disbelief and horror. He can’t do this. He’s going to stop halfway and he’s going to bring Yahaba down with it and he doesn’t think he can stomach that—

“What is making you think so hard at this time of day?”

Kyoutani jumps and glares at Watari who’s now standing beside him, all casual.

“It’s Yahaba,” Kyoutani says in frustration. “I have to tell him I can’t do what he wants I’m just going to ruin his performance.”

Watari raises his eyebrows.

“He seems to think otherwise.”

“He’s reckless enough.”

Watari pats him on the shoulder, smiling.

“Don’t let this one pass you by. This isn’t just about Yahaba. It’s also about you. You should do the things you love without having to fear.”

He’s right. Kyoutani knows he’s right but it’s still stopping him. That and the thing Watari is pressing against Kyoutani’s shoulder.

Kyoutani shoots him another glare, suspicious, and removes whatever is underneath Watari’s hand as the latter starts backing away.

It’s a folded piece of paper and Kyoutani sees a music sheet once he unfolds it.

_Saint-Saëns Introduction and Rondo—_

“WATARI!” Kyoutani yells as Watari runs away, snickering.

Kyoutani exhales sharply in annoyance and for a moment he actually considers crumpling the music sheet in his hand. Then he comes to that it’s basically a crime to his morals if he does that so he folds it back up instead.

_He can’t do this_ is what his body is telling him but the music in his mind says otherwise.

 

Yachi has been pausing now and again, Kyoutani notices. They’re walking home from school and Kyoutani is lagging behind a few steps from her. Yachi appears to be hesitating, stopping for a moment before walking again and Kyoutani wonders if she wants to ask him something.

For some reason, Kyoutani has a vague feeling he knows what’s up.

Finally, Yachi actually stops and she slowly turns around to look at Kyoutani, twiddling her thumbs.

“Er, Ken-chan,” she begins.

Kyoutani raises an eyebrow, bracing for it.

“What is it?”

“Well,” Yachi continues. “I was just wondering if you would, that is, play for me tonight? On your piano?”

Oh. Well. Kyoutani wasn’t expecting that. This isn’t a new thing though; he’s played countless times for Yachi before. He guesses he just hasn’t done it in a while.

“It’s okay if you don’t feel like it though,” Yachi quickly amends, waving her hands.

Kyoutani has never denied Yachi of anything though. He smiles gently and breathes a laugh.

“Sure, I’ll do it. Don’t worry about it.” He tells her and when Yachi beams, he’s glad she’s no longer hesitating this time.

 

It’s not a surprise that the grand piano in the music room is covered in a thin layer of dust and Kyoutani wipes it off as Yachi chooses a music piece from the shelf.

Kyoutani’s movements are mechanical almost; he’s done this so many times before—adjusting the seat, wiping the keys, arranging scattered music sheets. All this in his past life.

Yachi slides in next to him on the bench and hands him the music sheet.

“It’s Love’s Joy,” Yachi grins, “by Kriesler.”

Sorrow’s sister piece. Kyoutani knows it by heart.

“Ah, I like this one,” he says.

It’s easier to play when he’s comfortable with whoever is by his side. Yachi is a solid ray of sunlight beside him and it’s easier to zone out the taunts in his head. His fingers keep moving and the tune still carries.

In his periphery, the sun shines brightly in the room, the dust motes dance an unpracticed waltz. Trees appear and the leaves turn green, a full-blown spring inside the room that’s become small in comparison.

The notes go higher and Kyoutani closes his eyes. Yachi is humming next to him and everything is fine.

Everything is fine.

He continues to play—and pauses. He only pauses when a finger presses in and he stops hearing anything.

Eyes open. “Oh.”

Yachi leans in, curious and then smiles widely when she understands.

“Oh! That’s okay,” she says, “that was more than enough. I liked it.”

Kyoutani clears his throat. “Sorry. I can play it again if you want.”

“Thank you, Ken-chan!”

They stay like this for a while, Yachi humming along and Kyoutani idly playing, pausing and stopping every few rounds and starting over.

“I heard,” Yachi says, “that Yahaba wants you to accompany him.”

Kyoutani stops once more.

“Huh, they told you huh.”

“Yep!”

Kyoutani relaxes. “What do you think?”

Yachi laughs softly. “Me? I think it’s good. You love to play regardless if you can’t. But this isn’t about my opinion, it’s about yours.”

“I don’t think I can do it,” Kyoutani admits, sighing. “Right in the middle I might stop hearing it and Yahaba—”

“Yahaba-kun knows what he’s getting into, I think,” Yachi tells him.

_Of course he does_. Kyoutani snorts.

“Would you be happy to see me there?” Koutani asks quietly.

Yachi puts her hands together, looking delighted.

“Of course I would, Ken-chan! But you’re supposed to be happy about it too, you know, so it’s fair.”

Kyoutani laughs. “Yeah, I got it.”

They hear someone at the door and they both look up when there’s a knock, followed by the door opening.

“There you are!” Kyoutani’s father says, looking proud of himself. He appears to have just arrived home as he’s still wearing his office clothes.

“Hi Dad!” Yachi waves.

Kyoutani Koharu smiles brightly, giving Yachi a thumbs up.

“Hiya, sweetie! Whoa, did I disturb a bonding moment?”

Yachi giggles into her hands and Kyoutani rolls his eyes.

“Dad, please—”

“Aha! Embarrassed!”

“ _Dad!_ ”

Another voice approaches and the door opens wider.

“What’s holding you up? I’ve been calling you down for dinner—oh!” Madoka peers inside the room, smiling when she sees her children. “So you’re both here!”

“Hi Mom, sorry we didn’t hear you,” Kyoutani says, starting to stand.

She waves a hand dismissively, stepping inside. She doesn’t really come inside the music room, knowing that it’s Kyoutani’s special place. Even so, she still holds a lot of interest in it.

“That’s alright, I didn’t know you were—”

“ _Sibling bonding_ ,” Koharu stage-whispers by the door and Madoka laughs.

“Well, yes,” she says. She moves closer to the piano and peers at the music sheet that’s still open. “What were you playing?”

“ _Liebesfreud_ ,” Kyoutani smiles.

“Hmm, I think I know that,” Madoka hums and she looks at her husband as the idea comes back to her. “That’s with that other piece, right Koharu?”

He nods and his smile is warm and fond.

“ _Liebesleid._ ”

Friendly chatter ensues and Kyoutani can’t help but smile as he listens to each word and each laugh.

“If you want,” Kyoutani says. “I can play both for you guys after dinner.”

They all look at him and surprise and he almost turns away self-consciously. Madoka, however, leans forward and kisses him on the head.

“We would absolutely love that,” she tells him.

_Mom,_ Kyoutani thinks. _I think I’m going to be okay now._

+

 

Kyoutani’s only pretending he feels no pressure whatsoever. After all, he has not _explicitly_ said he’s going to be accompanying a wild violinist.

And yet he’s spent his recent days humming Saint-Saëns in his head. And yet the music sheet still flashes behind his eyelids when he closes his eyes. And yet his fingers start tapping as if pressing onto keys.

And yet when the day of the completion comes, he’s eating his lunch at the rooftop, hiding really, and he’s counting the seconds that passes in anticipation.

He’s not going to. He’s not.

He’s—

The door to the rooftop slams open and Kyoutani drops his chopsticks, startled. He’s not very surprised when he sees Yahaba stomping forward towards him, breathing heavily. He’s carrying his violin case with him and he looks frazzled.

“I’ve been looking all over for you!” is the first thing he exclaims to Kyoutani.

“W-What are you doing here?” Kyoutani stammers, dumbfounded. “You should be at—”

“I can’t be without my accompanist now, can I?” Even in this rushed hour he still manages to be snarky.

Kyoutani straightens up, standing and stepping forward to Yahaba.

“Listen, Yahaba I really…,”

Yahaba puts his hands together and bows low.

“I know,” he says. “You’ve told me. I can’t understand it now but I’m trying. You’re afraid because out there you’re alone and you’re used to someone telling you what to do, what to follow. But this time, you’re not,” he peeks in between his hands to look at Kyoutani. “You have me. You’re not alone there.”

Yahaba straightens and his expression is wobbly, almost desperate.

“I don’t care if we don’t make it halfway but we’re going to perform it—you and me.”

Kyoutani watches him, surprised, lungs widening, heart beating fast.

“Kyoutani!”

“Ken-chan!”

Kyoutani almost laughs. Watari and Yachi. Of course. In the distance, the school bell rings signaling the end of lunch and Kyoutani barely registers it.

Watari points a finger at him, looking frustrated.

“Where the heck have you been we’ve been waiting for you!”

Kyoutani blinks. “I, uh,”

“Yahaba-kun!” Yachi is almost squealing. “You have to go now! It’s about to start and your performance—”

Yahaba eyes her blearily, eyes wide and he shoots Kyoutani another glance. This time, he extends a hand.

“Let’s make music together,” he says, voice nearly cracking. “Don’t make me grab your hand again.”

The world is soft around the edges and everywhere is a vision of spring. Kyoutani steps even closer and his hand finds Yahaba’s own.

“I’m there.” He tells him.

Yachi is now definitely squealing when she peals, “Then let’s go!”

Watari is pushing them both and Kyoutani is scrambling to pack up his half-eaten lunch haphazardly.

_Mom_ , Kyoutani thinks. They’re running, high on emotions and panicked laughter and they’re running. A bunch of papers—music sheets—are pressed into his hand and Kyoutani burns it all in memory.

_I think you can say goodbye now._

**Author's Note:**

> "SO PAOLA NOW WHAT????"  
> they kick ass in the stage thats what. kyoutani probably stops like two times but yahaba is there and they still kick ass together.
> 
> finally it's done i'm so happy!! ahhh feedback is welcome!
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/crossbelladonna) | [tumblr](http://crossbelladonna.tumblr.com/)


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